Aru Shah and the Tree of Wishes (Pandava Quartet #3) - Roshani Chokshi Page 0,13

his purse—”

“Satchel!” corrected Aiden.

“Complains about ‘kids these days’—”

Aiden grumbled. “I just think it’s kinda sad how our generation—”

“And he gets tired at, like, seven o’clock.”

“That was one time!” protested Aiden. “And you were tired, too!”

“But why Wifey?” asked Nikita.

Aru was about to answer when Sheela spoke up.

“Once upon a time,” she said, in her singsong voice, “Aiden’s soul lived within a beautiful and powerful princess who married all five Pandava brothers—which was sometimes strange, but mostly okay, because she got five times the presents on her birthday and anniversary. The only sad thing was that she loved one brother more than all the rest.”

Sheela didn’t bother to look at them until she finished, and when she did, her gaze went straight to Aiden. Her eyes flashed silver for a moment, like someone had flipped a quarter in a beam of light. And then she tilted her head. “Even lifetimes later?” she asked, as if to herself.

Aiden frowned. “What are you talking about?”

But Sheela ignored the question, turning her attention instead to the leaves on the moonlit branches.

Boo came soaring out of the trees. Normally, he would’ve alighted on Aru’s head. Or Mini’s shoulder. But this time, he just hovered in the air.

“Come along, children,” he intoned. “We have an appointment.”

Mini piped up first. “With Hanuman and Urvashi?”

“No,” said Boo in a clipped voice. “They’ve left.”

“What? Why?” asked Brynne.

Boo quoted the last lines of the prophecy: “But the tree at the heart is the only true cost. No war can be won without finding that root; no victory had without the yield of its fruit. In five days the treasure will bloom and fade, and all that was won could soon be unmade.”

Aru was glad he left out the part about the untrue sister and the whole world receiving “its due” from a single choice.

“The Council believes the prophecy means that the nectar of immortality is at risk, and so they have left for Lanka—”

“The city of gold?” asked Aiden, awed.

“The very same,” said Boo. “Deep in the city lies the labyrinth containing the nectar of immortality. The rest of the Council is conferring with Lord Kubera to make sure it is well protected, especially over the next five days.”

“Are the Guardians mad at us?” asked Mini, in a small voice.

At this, Boo finally relented. With a sigh, he swooped down and alighted on Mini’s head.

“No one is mad at you,” he said.

Mini sniffed. “You’re just…”

Oh no, thought Aru. Mini’s least favorite word.

“Disappointed?” Brynne guessed.

Boo looked at all of them and then shook his head. “Scared,” he said. “We are too close to war…. We cannot make such mistakes. And you…You should have been able to handle this. That you couldn’t is not your fault, but ours. Now come. We have a meeting with a crisis manager to figure out what must be done about you.”

“All of us?” asked Nikita.

It was the first time she’d spoken up. She stood slightly in front of Sheela, as if ready to shield her at any moment.

“Yes,” said Boo, a touch more gently. “All of you.”

For the first time, Aru saw fear flash over Nikita’s face.

“It’ll be fine,” said Mini. “Trust us.”

Nikita’s expression hardened into a scowl. “No chance of that.”

Boo flew into the chakora forest, urging the Pandavas to follow. Aru trudged behind the others. Crisis manager? That sounded…awful. And Hanuman and Urvashi had flat-out left? Shame roiled through Aru’s belly, and she kicked at the moonlit ground. Usually, walking through the chakora forest relaxed her. It was the home of the magical birds who fed on moonlight. But now even the moonbeams seemed harsh, casting a silvery glow that seemed to illuminate Aru’s every thought about all the ways they’d failed.

Boo led them through a tunnel that carved through a hill and opened up into a chamber that looked like a fancy hotel lobby with marble floors and warm lighting. Except instead of an elevator bank there was an intricate golden gate, the top of which seemed to disappear into a ceiling of low-hanging clouds. Its metal railings were bent into what resembled a grinning mouth.

“Password?” it prompted.

The gate’s voice reminded Aru of her school’s guidance counselor. A weird note of sweetness that never changed. Seriously. That lady could be politely delighted about the apocalypse.

“Why does it need a password when we were asked to show up here?” demanded Brynne. “Shouldn’t it just know who we are?”

“You can never be too careful,” said Boo.

Mini checked her pockets. “Are we supposed to have a